


Hot For Teacher

by writerchick0214



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-11-15
Packaged: 2017-11-06 15:28:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerchick0214/pseuds/writerchick0214
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, no walkers. Daryl is Carl’s teacher. When Carl starts acting out in school Mr. Dixon requests a parent-teacher conference with Rick and Lori (who are going through a divorce) and when Rick meets this mysterious Mr. Dixon he can’t stop thinking about it. Rick/Daryl slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Written for DropkickingBulletShells (ove on ff.net). We're doing a fic exchange. Go read Forbidden Fruit, the story they did for me! Also, their other TWD story Dollface

Chapter One

Carl walked with his head hung when Rick picked him up from school that day. It was Rick’s weekend with him, Thursday until Sunday, the absence of his wedding ring a heavy reminder, and as he waited in his squad car he narrowed in on his boy trying to figure out what was wrong. He looked fine, no scratches or bruises so it wasn’t a fight and Carl wasn’t crying so he was physically fine every other way, but the kid’s lips were pursed in a pout and his cheeks were stained red. When Carl finally approached the car he reached for the door handle with hesitant fingers and didn’t look up even when Rick plastered on what he hoped was a comforting smile and leaned over to pop the door open for him. Carl silently set his backpack on the floor and climbed into the front seat avoiding his father’s eyes, biting at his lip nervously. 

“How was school?” Rick asked even though he knew the answer probably wasn’t going to be positive. Carl mumbled something Rick couldn’t understand so he asked his son to repeat himself.

“I got in trouble. Here-” Carl handed him a folded up piece of paper. Rick raised an eyebrow but wordlessly took the sheet of paper, unfolding it cautiously as if it would explode if he wasn’t too careful. Written in messy chicken scratch was a note from Carl’s teacher, Mr. Dixon, whom he had heard plenty of good things about (Carl seemed to adore him) but still had yet to meet.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Grimes,

It is with great displeasure that I write you this note to inform you of Carl’s misbehavior in my classroom. Recently he has begun to act out, talking while I am trying to teach, teasing other students, and talking back. Today’s incident seemed severe enough for me to request a parent-teacher conference. Monday evening would be especially convenient for me but can be planned for another day if necessary. You can reach me here at the school any time tonight until 7:00 sharp or tomorrow during school hours; on Fridays I leave promptly when school ends for the children. Thank you for your time.

-D. Dixon

And next to the printed name was a sloppy signature. Rick read it three times before taking a deep breath and setting it down, looking at his son. Carl had yet to look at him and Rick couldn’t tell if he was ashamed or if he was just angry. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, willing the headache away and tried to figure out how to handle the situation. Rick’s first instinct was to yell at Carl but since he hadn’t heard Carl’s side of the story yet he resisted, and his second instinct was to march into the school and face Mr. Dixon right now. But Rick stayed put, looking at his cowering boy with sadness. 

“What happened?” Rick finally asked. 

“I said I curse word.” Carl glanced at Rick quickly before looking back down at his lap.

“You what?” Rick and Lori were pretty strict about the language and managed to watch themselves around Carl.

“Mr. Dixon asked me to stop drawing on my desk and I yelled at him.” Was Carl crying?

“What exactly did you yell?” 

“I told him to ‘mind his own damn business’.” Then Carl flinched bodily, like Rick would start yelling or perhaps strike him even though Rick barely ever raised his voice and certainly never struck his son.

 

“We’ll talk about his at home,” Rick stated firmly, starting the car. He waited until Carl was safely buckled in and drove to his new apartment.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Inside the furnished apartment was dismal and depressing, the bland beige walls blending in with the bland beige carpets which in turn blended in perfectly with the bland beige furniture. The sight made Rick blanch every time he saw it and even though he didn’t quite miss Lori like he thought he would he defiantly missed his-her-house. The colorful walls and unique furniture, pictures covering every flat surface and all the random and unnecessary decorations. Now he was greeted with the simple sight of his luxury, but boring, second floor apartment. It was large enough, two bedrooms, two baths, open floor plan with a patio overlooking a surprisingly pretty scene of a pond and some trees. When Rick moved in the owners of the apartment complex warned him of the snakes in the pond. 

“Straight to your room, buddy and no TV. I’ll call you when it’s time for dinner.” 

Rick tugged at his shirt collar, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his uniform. He loved being a Sherriff and he took pride in the uniform but it was mighty hot in the Georgia sun. Rick rummaged around in his junk drawer-which had somehow already become cluttered-looking for the list of numbers for the school he knew was stashed there. The inside of the drawer was filled with takeout menus and batteries, an odd mixture he hadn’t seen since before he was married, and in the back, crumpled and greasy was the school directory list. Rick pulled a beer from the fridge, popping the top off as he walked and ignoring it as it bounced on the linoleum floor of the kitchen, and sat on the couch sinking in as deep as he could. It was ugly but thankfully comfortable and Rick tried not to think of all the other tenants who had previous sat there. He dialed the number, waited four rings, and held his breath when a man with an extremely gruff southern accent answered. 

“This is Mr. Dixon,” He said and Rick’s breathe caught in this throat. Even though this Mr. Dixon sounded redneck as hell and tougher than nails there was a sweetness to his voice that Rick found intriguing. “Hello?” Then Rick realized he was sitting there on the phone breathing into it like a stalker.

“Hello, sorry about that, this is Mr. Grimes.”

“Hello, Mr. Grimes, thank you for getting back to me so promptly.” Mr. Dixon sounded intelligent but like he was working hard to go against his natural accent and way of speaking. 

“It’s no problem. I was rather concerned when I read your letter. I’m sorry about Carl’s behavior.” Rick took a swallow of his beer.

“No need to worry, Mr. Grimes, these things happen. I just wish for you and Mrs. Grimes to come in so we can discuss the specifics. Is Monday alright with you?” Rick could hear Mr. Dixon writing something down, perhaps grading papers. 

“Monday is fine.”

“Thank you, Mr. Grimes, if you could be here around 5:00 that would be perfect. Sorry to cut this call so short but I have a huge stack of papers here to grade.” Rick could hear a smile on Mr. Dixon’s face. For some reason it made him smile, too.

“Alright then I’ll see you Monday. Have a good night.” 

 

“You, too.” With a chuckle Mr. Dixon hung up the phone and Rick sat there with the phone still to his ear listening to the dial tone. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Carl and Rick ate in silence that night; Rick called Lori shortly after speaking with Mr. Dixon and she had been furious, demanding to speak with Carl. He could hear her yelling from five feet away. Carl had started crying then, handing the phone back to his father and that’s when Lori started in on Rick. Rick shut her down quickly, using calming words and tones and explained Mr. Dixon wanting to meet with them. She agreed and suggested Shane watch Carl while they go. As soon as Shane’s name left her mouth she stopped short, gasping quietly and Rick had felt his hands clench into fists. He and Lori were civil with each other but things were still tense, especially when it came to Shane. But Rick agreed anyways; he may not like the backstabber anymore but he trusted Carl with him, more so than almost anybody.

So there Rick and Carl sat, neither talking nor looking at each other and Carl was picking at his food more than he was eating it. Rick wasn’t a very good cook and the food looked and tasted as bland as the rest of the apartment so he set his fork down and got Carl’s attention, smiling at him. Carl’s eyes were still puffy and red-rimmed from when he had cried but he smiled back, ducking his head shortly after so his hair hung in his eyes. Rick made a mental note to take him for a haircut soon. He stood, taking his and Carl’s plates-paper plates-and threw them in the trash. Then he pulled out the impressively pitiful stack of takeout menus and put them in front of Carl who perked up.

 

“Take your pick. We’re going to order some food and pig out in front of the TV like real men.” Rick puffed out his chest and Carl started giggle. He handed Rick a menu for a nearby pizza place.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“One large meat lover’s pizza, 10-piece wing, and a 2-liter of cola?” An Asian man was at the door with a sweet smile on his face. He looked younger, early 20’s, and kind. 

“That’s us. Hey Carl, you want to pay him?” Rick turned his head to look at his son who immediately raced to the door and took the money from Rick’s hand. The young boy held the cash out for the pizza boy to take.

“My name is Carl,” He said, beaming up at the Asian kid. 

“I’m Glenn. It’s nice to meet you, Carl,” Glenn smiled humorously at him and handed back his change. “I like your shoes.” Glenn pointed at Carl’s blue Converse then at his own. 

“They’re my favorite. I have more! In all sorts of colors.”

“So do I. But I’ve had these for years. They’re my favorite, too.” Glenn was chuckling kindheartedly with a fondness in his eyes. 

Then Carl looked at Rick questioningly.

“You can give him as big a tip as you want, little man. You’re in charge here.” There was $10 left over. Carl handed Glenn all of it and before Glenn took it, eyes wide, he looked to Rick for reassurance. Rick just smiled and nodded, gesturing for him to take it.

“Thank you, Carl!” Glenn eagerly pocketed the cash. “That was very sweet of you. If you guys ever order from us again I’ll make sure to bring you dessert!” 

“Wow! Thanks Glenn!” Carl was beaming now, all traces of sadness gone.

“Have a good night, buddy.” Glenn smiled at Carl before looking to Rick. “Seriously, thank you so much.” 

“Think nothing of it. We’re having a bad day and Carl seems to like you.” Glenn nodded one last time before leaving.

“He was super nice,” Carl said, sitting on the couch.

“He sure was.” Rick didn’t bother with plates but grabbed two glasses and sat next to Carl, opening the boxes so they could dig in. 

“Can we get pizza from there again?” Carl asked, leaning over the pizza box as he ate. 

 

“Sure, kiddo. Now eat up. It’s almost time for bed.”

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Carl was tucked safely into bed hours before Rick fell asleep that night. He lay in bed, the lights off with his hands under his head thinking about Mr. Dixon. He fell asleep to the memory of his voice.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Rick didn’t have time to go home and shower, he didn’t have time to wash up at work, and he definitely didn’t have time to change his sweat-stained uniform shirt but none of that mattered because for once he was on time and Lori was late. He felt the urge to gloat when he saw his soon-to-be ex-wife pull up a flustered mess but he kept it to himself, instead leaning again the door frame in the main entrance with a smug look on his face. Lori knew what his smirk meant and she scowled at him, hair blowing behind her in her haste to catch up. Rick rolled his eyes at her antics but held the door open for her nonetheless, gesturing for her to enter first. Lori nodded curtly, smoothing down her long skirt. 

After a quick stop in the main office for visitors’ passes and directions to Mr. Dixon’s room Rick and Lori made their way down the hall and to their right, second door on the left-if you pass the bathroom you’ve gone too far-and Rick knocked. He and Lori stood comfortably close together but when Rick noticed their arms almost touching he took a step away. Lori noticed and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She looked like she was going to say something but stopped herself and before Rick could question her about it the door opened and Rick’s words were caught in his throat. The man who stood in front of him was absolutely nothing like he had imagined; Mr. Dixon had shorter, messy almost-blonde hair that swept this way and that in a perfectly imperfect way, the bluest eyes he had ever seen, and a curious air about him. 

“You must be Mr. and Mrs. Grimes,” Mr. Dixon said. His shoulders were slouched in on himself just slightly. “Come in.” He moved away from the door so they could enter and Rick was glued to the spot long enough for Lori and Mr. Dixon to notice.

“Rick?” Lori asked impatiently. She was looking at him with wide eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Rick shook his head trying to clear it. There were two chairs placed directly in front of Mr. Dixon’s desk and Rick sat in one ignoring Lori when she took a seat next to him, focusing solely on Carl’s teacher. 

The man walked with a confidant stride, chest puffed out and chin held high but his face was soft despite the hard edge to his narrowed eyes. Mr. Dixon wore a pair of black slacks and shiny black dress shoes, both rather typical, but Rick’s eyes trailed slowly up and down the man’s torso. The grey button up shirt was crisp and fit perfectly, buttoned all the way up and finished with a black tie; even though the sleeves were rolled casually up to his elbows it only added to the elegance to the outfit. Immediately Rick caught on to Mr. Dixon’s fascination with his own mouth, the way he licked his lips and bit his fingers. Lori clearing her throat was the only thing that tore Rick’s gaze away from Mr. Dixon’s mouth. When he looked at Lori she was watching him inquisitively, looking between him and the teacher. 

“Thank you both fer comin’ in,” Mr. Dixon sat behind his desk, straightening a few sheets of paper before him. Rick was certain now that he was covering a southern drawl. “I know it’s a hassle and I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem,” Lori said, crossing her legs. “So what exactly is going on?” Rick wanted to scold Lori for her impolite tone. 

Rick zoned out after that and not because he wasn’t listening to Mr. Dixon, quite the contrary, he was too busying listening to pay attention to his actual words. The teacher’s voice had a sort of roughness to it, like there was gravel in his throat, and it sent unfamiliar shivers up Rick’s spine. Rick was again drawn to the other man’s mouth, eyeing the beauty mark there, the dark circles under his eyes that would be unattractive on anyone else and the way his eyebrow quirked when he spoke. There was the faintest hint of sweat on Mr. Dixon’s hairline but it only made his face that more attractive.

Wait. Attractive? Where the hell had that come from?

“Is there anything going on at home that may be causing these displays of rebellion?” The only reason Rick had even heard Mr. Dixon was because he was looking right at him.

“Well, we’re going through a divorce,” Rick said without thinking. 

“Rick!” Lori exclaimed looking put out. 

“I’m very sorry,” Mr. Dixon looked uncomfortable. “I didn’ mean to pry.”

“Don’t be. I’m no longer living at the house and Carl is going back and forth. I doubt he’s very happy about the whole situation.” 

“Divorce can be a hard thing for a child.” Mr. Dixon leaned back in his chair, all long limbs and cocky comfort. He twirled a pen between his fingers. 

“You sound like you know.” And Rick could smack himself, he wanted to when Mr. Dixon lowered his eyes.

“I do. And I did the same thing Carl is doing.” Mr. Dixon sat up again and leaned forward on his forearms. Rick forgot Lori was even there. “Carl is a great kid, one of my best students. Math is a hard subject and even if he doesn’t always get it the first time he really tries. I’d hate to see him fall behind because of this.” 

“We’ll have a talk with him.” Lori elbowed him hard enough for it to sting. “Wont we?”

“Of course. Don’t worry, Mr. Dixon, we’ll put a stop to this.”

“Please, call me Daryl.” 

And that was when Rick fell in love. He just didn’t know it yet. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Weeks passed and Rick was going crazy; all he heard about was Mr. Dixon this and Mr. Dixon that, Carl’s admiration for his Math teacher seeming to grow by the day. Carl told Rick how Mr. Dixon made up a cool story that taught him to remember an equation, how Mr. Dixon had picked him to solve a problem on the board and how Mr. Dixon was a teacher chaperone for the upcoming school dance. Rick listened as his son gushed about the dance and needing a suit, how he asked a girl named Sophia to be his date and how she said yes. This Sophia girl sounded adorable and spunky, albeit a bit shy, and her last name-Peletier-sounded vaguely familiar. Rick was picking Carl up from school the day before the dance so he could meet Sophia’s mom when it happened, Mr. Dixon, Daryl, was walking Carl out of the building with a blinding smile on his face, listening intently while Carl told some story. Daryl nodded his head and looked up, catching Rick’s eye. And fuck if Rick wasn’t blushing.

“Dad, dad!” Carl saw him and ran, leaving Daryl to follow behind him at a slower pace. “Guess what?”

“What?” Rick was more than a little happy to see Carl in a good mood again. 

“We need a parent chaperone for the dance and Mr. Dixon wants you to do it!”

“He does, does he?” Rick chuckled placing a hand on top of Carl’s head, and turned to Daryl. 

“One of the parents dropped out and we need a replacement. Carl said you had him tomorrow night so I figured I’d ask if you could come in.” Daryl looked hopeful but shy, hands shoved in the pockets of his pants. It was the same outfit as the first time Rick saw him and Daryl looked even better, if it was possible. 

“I don’t see why not. I was just going to take Carl and Sophia to the dance and go home to sit on the couch.” Rick smiled despite realizing how incredibly dull that sounded. Is that what his life had become, frozen dinners and nights on the couch? 

“Thank you,” Daryl seemed genuinely pleased. “The dress code is the same fer you as it is fer the kids.” He looked at Rick’s police uniform with a slightly wrinkled nose. 

“I’m sure I can figure something out.” 

Rick and Daryl stared at each other for a long moment. 

“Carl!” Rick saw a taller girl with long, skinny limbs shouting from across the lawn. Next to her was a tiny woman with short, gray hair and kind smile. There was a bruise on her collarbone and it triggered something in Rick’s memory but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out how he knew her face. 

“I won’t keep you.” Daryl nodded and walked away, glancing once over his shoulder and Rick was sure he was grinning like a loon.

“Dad, this is Sophia and her mom.”

“Carol,” The woman offered her hand out to shake. Rick took it gently, politely.

“Nice to meet both of you.” He acknowledged Sophia. “I’m Carl’s dad, Rick.” 

“Thank you for picking Sophia up tomorrow,” Carol’s lips were tight. “My husband, Ed, is going to have the car.”

“You’re on the way so it’s no hassle.” 

The two parents delved into a light, easy conversation while their children played in the grass. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Rick was nervous. Scratch that, he was petrified. He stood in front of the full-length mirror in his room agonizing over the perfect tie. Solid or checkered and seriously, when had he turned into a woman? Rick chided himself for the foolish behavior but it did nothing to stop him from switching back and forth between the two ties. He hadn’t felt like this since, well, ever. It was like he was dating again, butterflies in his stomach and sweaty palms and all. But this wasn’t a date, he wasn’t even going to be alone with Daryl, but still Rick was nervous. He finally decided on the solid tie, the same navy color as the rest of his suit, looping it around his neck before he could second guess himself. 

Carl was already dressed and waiting for him in the living room. His son was going on a real date and was less anxious than he was, talking about how awesome Sophia is and how fun the dance was going to be. His son, a little Romeo. The thought made him grin despite the uneasy turning in his stomach. With one last look at himself in the mirror he left his room, happy to find Carl still sitting on the couch watching the TV instead of staining his brand new suit. When Carl noticed him he stood, shut the TV off and ran to the door, ready to go. He held it open for Rick and locked it behind him, handing Rick his keys. He almost always drop his squad car but he did have an old Saturn, bought back in 1996 when it was brand new, the dark green pain chipping in places. It looked a little worse for wear but it ran like a charm.

Picking up Sophia was a simple affair. Carol took a few pictures of the two together and gave Rick a list of emergency numbers and pulled her daughter to her with a tearful goodbye. Rick promised to take good care of Sophia, reminding Carol that he was in fact a cop, and ushered the two children out of the house. They were running late and Rick was hoping his presence wasn’t needed yet and the other chaperones were doing just fine without him. When they pulled up to the school Rick started growing uncertain again, tugging at his tie. He needed to get himself under control. And now.

For a while Rick didn’t see Daryl and part of him was very happy, his nerves calming down the longer he stayed away. Then Rick saw him, on one knee by the punch bowl in front of an upset looking little girl. Daryl had his hands on her shoulders and was speaking softly to her. When he stood Daryl was enthralled by his outfit, mouth watering. Even though Daryl was only about 5’10, just slightly shorter than himself, his build made him look taller. Broad shoulders and sinewy muscle hid beneath a clean white shirt, top two buttons undone showing just a sliver of tanned skin. Daryl’s black pants were form fitting and left little to the imagination, Rick staring opened-mouthed when the other man bent over to pick something up. Skinny suspenders and a black tie the same sleek color of his pants gave the outfit that extra something that had Rick shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. 

“Mr. Grimes!” Daryl called, rushing over to greet him. “Glad you’re finally here.” 

“If I can call you Daryl then you should call me Rick.” 

“Rick, then.” 

Daryl walked him around the gymnasium, pointing out the exits and explaining the rules to him. Rick didn’t remember dances being so strict. They stayed together the whole night, talking most about Carl, and Rick found himself wanting to ask Daryl personal questions; what’s his favorite food, favorite color, what did the tiny tattoo on his hand mean? He didn’t, though, not wanting to cross some boundary, and instead focused on memorizing every part of him. The crow’s feet around Daryl’s eyes and the way his lips seemed plump even though they were actually kind of thin, how his forearm muscles flexed and Rick was glad Daryl’s sleeves were again rolled up. 

“Would you like to go out with me?” Daryl faced him, looked Rick directly in the eye and asked with a sureness that had Rick gawping. Daryl took this as a denial and started apologizing, turning an attractive shade of red “‘M sorry, that’s inappropriate. You’re my student’s father and in the middle of a divorce.” 

“No!” Rick all but yelled when Daryl turned to walk away. “No, I’d like to. Love to,” Rick corrected. “But I’ve never, uh…”

“Gone out with a man?” Daryl’s smirk changed the way he looked completely. Now he looked devious, sneaky and more than a little mean but Rick loved it.

“I’ve never done anything with a man, actually. Never wanted to.” Daryl stepped a little closer than he probably should have. 

“But you do now, right?” It wasn’t really a question. “You can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout me, my lips.” And Rick was staring again. “My voice.” 

And Rick whimpered-whimpered¬-and his eyes closed of their own accord. 

“Saturday night.” Rick managed, swallowing audibly. “I’ll pick you up?” Daryl nodded encouragingly. “Say, seven o’clock?” 

“Sounds perfect. Here’s my address.” Daryl snagged a napkin off the refreshments table and a pen out of his pocket, scribbling an address down and handing it to Rick. Rick handled it as if it were made of glass, reading it enough times to memorize it before slipping it into his wallet. 

“Where would you like to go?” Rick asked and Daryl started walking away. 

“Surprise me,” Daryl threw over his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not ran past my BETA, so all mistakes are my own. Feel free to point them out.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own. All rights go to Robert Kirkman, Frank Darabont, and all others involved. Obviously I'm NOT involved.
> 
> Next chapter will have Merle and perhaps a few more of our lovely Walking Dead characters. Please review and let me know what you think! The outfits described in this chapter are actual outfits Norman Reedus has worn before.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I've gotten such great reviews from all of you…thank you so much! So this is for a fic exchange with Dropkicking Bullet Shells. Go check out Forbidden Fruit! It's an AU where Daryl is a stripper. Yup, a stripper. You need to read it. It's over on FF.net!

Daryl lived a good thirty minutes outside of town in an area Rick had never been to before. When he turned onto an old dirt road he almost turned back, remembering all of those slasher movies he had seen that started almost exactly like this. Rick didn't even realize he was on a driveway until a large, white house came into view; it was a pretty house, if a bit rundown, and surrounded by farmland. A rundown pickup and an impressive looking old Triumph were parked side by side next to the house. Rick was hoping the bike belonged to Daryl. As soon as Rick pulled up a large, burly man came out wearing dark jeans, a stained tank top and a leather vest-wasn't he dying in this heat? The man eyed Rick when he got out of the car but Rick flashed him a smile, shielding his eyes against the glare of the setting sun. When Rick saw that the man was missing his right hand his smile almost faltered. Almost.

"Hi there," Rick called. "I'm looking for Daryl Dixon?" When the man just kept staring him down Rick was beginning to think he had the wrong house.

"Well come on in, Officer Friendly!" The big man was grinning, holding the screen door open for Rick to walk through.

"Thank you," Rick said and took in his surroundings. The walls were whitewashed, old-fashioned, and furniture was scarce but the interior of the house was impeccably clean.

"You must be Rick." The man urged him into the kitchen.

"I am. You are?" Rick sat at the kitchen table.

"Name's Merle. Beer?" Merle offered him an ice-cold can of PBR which he gladly took. "'M Daryl's big brother."

"I didn't know he had any siblings." Rick said conversationally, drinking his beer. It wasn't doing anything to cool his body which suddenly felt 100 degrees too hot. Rick wasn't sure why meeting Daryl's family made his palms sweat.

"Yeah well, not a whole lotta people talk to that brother a mine. Too shy. No idea where he got it from." Merle's boisterous laugh was infectious and before Rick knew it he and Merle were gossiping like old friends.

The back door slammed and someone could be heard hastily moving about in the other room.

"Merle!" Daryl yelled. "We lost another cow. We're gonna have to kill them coyotes 'fore they get 'em all."

When Rick heard Daryl's voice he thinks his heart literally stops. It's the same voice he remembers only better, more-Daryl. Daryl's words are short and clipped, gruff and singing with a deep southern twang. No longer was he speaking phonetically correct or trying to sound like a dictionary. Now he was simple and straight to the point.

"Come on now, Darlene!" Merle yelled back. "Don' talk like that in front a yer date."

"What the hell're you talkin' 'bout?" Daryl stormed into the room and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Rick.

"Oh hell." Daryl cursed under his breath. "I know I'm runnin' late. Jus' let me get in the shower and we can go."

Rick shook his head, didn't want Daryl to take a shower. Daryl wore jeans that were too large, hanging enticingly from his hips and were covered in dirt and grass stains. His boots had seen better days as had his shirt; the plaid shirt had the sleeves ripped off and was plastered to Daryl's chest with sweat. Rick's eyes roamed the expanse of Daryl's arms and he was finding his jeans becoming too tight because damn, Daryl Dixon had the best arms he had ever seen. The appendages were perfectly defined and just the right size, muscles rippling every time Daryl moved and the sweat that seemed to soak his entire body glistened on his skin. His usually cleanly shaved face had a layer of scruff that was undeniably attractive and the smudge of dirt on Daryl's forehead only added to the man's beauty.

"Holy shit." Rick dropped his empty can on to the table loudly.

"Yeah, I know." Daryl looked uncertainly at his body, moving his arms as though to shield it from Rick's view. "I'm a mess. Jus' let me-" Rick stood, cutting him off.

"I didn't mean it like that." He completely forgot that Merle was in the room with them. "It was like 'holy shit, you're hot'."

"You hear that, boy?" Merle was chuckling again, getting himself another beer. Rick denied when he was offered one. "Yer boyfriend here thinks yer hot."

"Shut yer ugly mug." Daryl punched Merle but they were both smiling.

"Don' you worry yer little head, Darlyna, I'll watch over yer boy while you get ready."

When Daryl looked at Rick through hooded eyes Rick was pretty sure he died.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rick wasn't sure how to go on a date with a man. With a woman he would hold the car door open for her and when she got in he'd carefully close it, he'd compliment her dress, bask in her sweet perfume and tuck her hair behind her ear. As he and Daryl walked out of the house and towards Rick's car he was at a loss; did he open the door like he normally would or let Daryl take care of it himself? Daryl saved Rick from his own mind when he opened Rick's door for him, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, not meeting his eye. Rick stopped and stared at Daryl in awe. Daryl was standing in the sun just so, his silhouette outlined in the last rays of light in a way that made Rick's words catch in his throat. Daryl wore dark jeans that fit more snugly than the dirty ones he had on earlier, one hand shoved deep inside the front pocket and the other still on the car door. The black long-sleeved sweater looked thin but Rick thought Daryl was probably still hot in it, the material stretchy and formfitting and no matter how delicious Daryl looked Rick found himself missing Daryl's skin.

"Thank you." Rick winced when he heard his voice, soft and breathy and more than a little feminine sounding. Daryl just smirked, closing the door and jogging to the other side of the car. Once he was seated he looked expectantly at Rick.

"So where are we going?" He asked, licking his lips.

"It's a surprise." Rick took pride in the blush that spread across Daryl's face. It was light, barely noticeable but he saw it.

"Going all out, huh?" Daryl asked, sounding like a teacher again. Rick frowned.

"Why do you do that?" Rick plucked up the courage to ask once they were on the road.

"Do what?" It seemed like Daryl never really stood still, always touching something whether it be his mouth or a loose thread on his jeans.

"You have an accent but I never would have known it when I met you." Rick wasn't about to say that he had noticed but only because he was obsessing over every little bit of the man in a probably unhealthy way.

"Oh. That." Daryl was quiet. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Never got no respect when I was in school, they all thought I was just some dumb hick." He glared at Rick. "I ain't."

"I never said you were." Rick shouldn't have been shocked by the other man's defensive posture but he was. Had he already messed up their first date? "I don't think you are, either. Carl's school is one of the best in the area."

"I graduated top of my class. Pretty good for a stupid redneck, right?" Daryl looked proud and it made Rick proud, too.

"Plus I don' want my bad habits brushin' off on them kids. I'm just a math teacher; they shouldn't be pickin' English up from me, too. I know how I sound."

"I like the way you sound." Rick reached over with one hand and touched Daryl's cheek and frowned when the other man flinched. It was slight, barely there and anybody else probably would have missed it. He kept his fingers there, eyes on the road and only pulled away when he came to a stop sign.

"Yer crazy." Despite his words Daryl looked happier, accent coming back full force. It made something stir in the pit of Rick's stomach, not to mention his pants.

The rest of the drive was pleasant and full of small talk, Rick feeling lighter than he had in years. Daryl was interesting, that's for sure; he was older than Rick had initially assumed, closer to 40 than he was to 30, and he had done so much more in his life than Rick ever had. Rick wasn't complaining, even though his life with Lori hadn't worked out the way he had planned Carl was worth every second of it. He was a father and nothing would ever give Rick more pride or meaning than that. Daryl didn't have any children, he's never been married and with another endearing flush he even admitted he had never been in love before. Rick couldn't help but think every man and woman out there was crazy for not loving Daryl.

As soon as he was in the restaurant parking lot Rick felt like he had made the wrong decision; it was a nicer place, the kind where you need a reservation for a table, and a perfect first date spot. Except when you're trying to woo Daryl Dixon. Daryl seemed easy to please and not in a bad way, taking joy out of the simpler things in life. A fancy dinner with cloth napkins and a snooty waiter stuck up their asses just didn't seem like the best idea now that they were there.

"Wow. Nice place." Daryl looked at the building with an unreadable expression.

"We can go somewhere else if you want," Rick wiped the sweat from his brow.

"No, this is fine. Never been here before." When Daryl turned around his face was glowing, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling handsomely.

Rick nodded and raced out of the car, tipping over his own feet in his haste to open Daryl's door. He saw Daryl laughing at him but he couldn't find it in him to be embarrassed, laughing right along with him and beaming when Daryl brushed a hand along his arm when he stepped out of his seat. They stared at each other a long moment before Daryl smirked and walked ahead, arms swinging, gait confident. Rick would be lying if he said he wasn't checking out his ass.

Rick held the door open for Daryl loving the way the other man looked away as if unsure of himself. He saw a few people he knew, nodding politely their way as they followed the hostess to their table. Rick had requested one in the back corner and not because he was ashamed of Daryl but because he seemed like a man who respected his privacy. His conscientious thoughts were rewarded with a comforting smile as they sat. Words seemed almost unnecessary. Daryl played with his silverware, fiddling about with the metal and looking everywhere but Rick. It was charming but Rick was a little curious as to where the self-assured Daryl went from the other night when he had been so sure of himself asking Rick out. Sometimes Daryl seemed so in charge of himself and others completely unaware of his own body.

Rick liked it.

"You ok?" Rick asked and set his hand atop Daryl's to calm the fidgeting, the other man's hands feeling warm and rough and perfect.

"Fine. Never been to a place like this 'fore. It's a little expensive." Daryl was looking at the menu uncomfortably.

"Don't worry about the bill." Rick gave his hand a squeeze before letting go, looking at his own menu. "Tonight is my treat."

"I don't need no charity." Daryl's eyes narrowed marginally. Not threatening but as if he was waiting to be put down.

"I know that, Daryl. This isn't charity. It's a date."

"I have money but I take care of Merle and the farm. He doesn' work so I pay all the bills."

"Family is important, I get that. I think it's great you help him out." And Rick did think it was great.

"He can't really work." Rick could literally see the second Daryl started opening up. "He got into some trouble back when I was still a teenager. Got busted 'n was in prison for a few years. Wasn' his fault or nothing, did what he had to do. So I make sure he's got everything he needs."

"Is he alright with you being out with a cop?" Rick asked but almost didn't want to know the answer. He'd gotten a lot of flak from people for being an officer of the law.

"He ain't mad, if that's what yer thinking."

Rick was going to question Daryl more when the waitress showed up, introducing herself as Rebecca and asking what they would like to drink. And don't think Rick didn't see the looks she was giving Daryl. They both ordered beer-Daryl was disappointed when they didn't have PBR-and crab cakes for an appetizer to share. Rebecca walked away with a less-that-subtle wink at Daryl, her haps sashaying as she went. Daryl wasn't even looking at her, though; instead staring at Rick with a type on intensity that would have been threating coming from anyone else. It was as though Daryl didn't see how mesmerizing he really was.

"Carl talks about you all the time," Rick said, clearing his throat.

"He's a good kid." The fondness in Daryl's eyes touched Rick.

"You're his favorite teacher. He talks about you like you're some comic book character."

"Yer exaggerating." Daryl glances down at the tablecloth, hands wringing in his lap.

"I'm not. Every day when he gets home we talk about your class. He says everyone loves you."

"I like teaching. Means I did something with my shitty life that was actually worthwhile." Rick could tell he really meant it, see the damage of a hard life all over his body; the calloused hands and somewhat chapped lips, wrinkles from years out in the sun and a hardened body from a lifetime of manual labor.

"I always kind of had a privileged life," Rick said feeling miniscule next to such a good man.

"But yer a cop, you must have had to work hard fer it." Daryl thanked the waitress offhandedly, never looking away from Rick.

Rick: 1

Rebecca: 0

"Of course but my parents kind of coddled me. I was an only child in an upper-middle class household. Hell," Rick took a long sip of his Fat Tire. "I never worked a day in my life until I was eighteen." Daryl snorted on his drink.

"Are you serious?" He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, Rick noted fondly.

"Sure am. I had everything I wanted, too all I had to do was ask."

"You spoiled asshole."

"I most definitely was but I'm trying not to do that to Carl. I think it's good for a man to work."

"Been workin' all my life." It was obviously something he was proud of, looking wistful. "Merle taught me how to hunt when I was five years old. Been in the woods ever since."

"You hunt?" And really, Rick shouldn't be surprised because this man was apparently full of them.

"'Course I do, Me and Merle both do."

"Does he still hunt?" Rick wanted to ask because of his hand? but didn't, not wanting to cross some line.

"Merle would hunt with no hands, I'm tellin' you. Toughest bastard I ever met, my brother. You give him a hammer and he'd crap out nails."

Rick laughed, already having the best date of his life and it wasn't even over yet.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They left the restaurant laughing and in high spirits, Daryl holding the door open for Rick who felt like a giddy school girl when he blushed. Daryl was more at ease with him, more open and when Rick leaned in for a kiss he found himself thankful Daryl didn't shave. The scruff against his chin was new to Rick but he found himself leaning into the gentle scratch, tongue lapping out to run against lips that were more chapped than he was used to. Rick had Daryl crowded up against the passenger side door, hands at his side but itching to move, to touch. Daryl groaned low in throat and Rick went wild, hands moving to grip at Daryl's hips, pushing their lips in impossibly closer.

"So what's next?" Daryl asked when Rick finally pulled back.

"Another surprise." Rick was breathless.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Casablanca in the park?" Daryl raised an eyebrow at Rick.

"What? It's romantic." Rick actually felt like he had done a good job with the part of the night. Wasn't sitting together on a blanket in the park watching an epic romance move the perfect day? It must be because the park was packed with couples.

"Come on, Casanova." Daryl grabbed Rick by the hand and pulled him into the crowd to find a good spot to lay their blanket down.

To say the move was awkward was an understatement. The pair sat close together, Rick could feel Daryl's warmth through their clothes, but people would occasionally send them judging glances. Daryl didn't seem to notice and Rick assumed he was probably used it but Rick wasn't. He had always lived a rather cookie cutter life, white picket fence and all so the scrutiny was making him uncomfortable. Daryl seemed to notice because he left his eyes on the movie and his body an acceptable amount of space away. Rick appreciated it but that didn't stop him from feeling guilty. This had been Rick's idea, after all. Finally the movie ended and as soon as the credits started rolling they both jumped up, rushing toward the car.

"That was terrible." Daryl stated bluntly while he waited for Rick to unlock the car.

"You're telling me. Worst idea ever." Rick opened Daryl's door for him and was rewarded with a chase kiss on the lips. Rick's eyes grew wide and he made a strange noise, Daryl laughing even as he close the door. He didn't think he'd ever get used to that.

"Why don't we just go back to my place for a drink? Merle always has a bottle of Southern Comfort lying around."

"Uh…" Rick was at a loss, stammering like a fool.

"We don't have to do nothin'." Daryl panicked raising his hands up in defeat. "We got a spare room or you can call a cab. Just figured you might want to."

"I'd love to."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Merle was still awake when they got back, lying on the couch in nothing but a pair of jeans. He had a beer in his good hand and the other arm resting under his head. The Dixon household didn't seem to have an air conditioner so the summer heat was stifling at night, the mild breeze blowing through the window welcome. Merle was lightly dusted with sweat but looked comfortable, laughing at whatever was on the television. The elder Dixon looked up when they entered, smile growing wide with joy. Happiness looked a little out of place on the man but it seemed genuine.

"What're you guys doin' back?" He finished his beer.

"Came to drink," Daryl called over his shoulder. When he came back he had a 12-pack, a bottle of liquor and shotglasses.

"That bad?" Merle sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Not bad, Merle. Just wanted a drink." Daryl sat on the floor in front of the couch, setting the alcohol on the small table. There were four shot glasses in his hand. Daryl saw Rick looking. "We're gonna play quarters."

"I haven't played that since college." Rick happily took a seat next to Daryl on the floor, leaning in close to breathe him in. He smelled like the rain and the grass and something Rick couldn't place.

"Me'n Daryl play all the time. Be prepared to get drunk." Merle smirked at him.

What the hell had he gotten himself into?

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rick was drunk. Rick was shitfaced. Rick was I want you naked gone. He couldn't tear his eyes off of Daryl and he knew Merle noticed. Daryl just kept playing quarters, eyes half-lidded and looking the sexiest he had ever looked and he had absolutely no idea. Rick wasn't sure why that turned him on so much but it did, licking his lips and drinking half his beer in one go. He felt like if he stopped drinking he would say something completely inappropriate. When he looked at Merle Rick realized he wasn't the only one that was drunk; in fact, both Dixon brothers were plastered, telling stories from when they were children and acting like Rick had known them their whole lives. Daryl was in his element, in his home and relaxing enough for Rick to get a really good look at him.

"Well, little brother," Merle stood, almost falling back down in the process. "I think I'ma head off to bed. You two be good now, ya hear?" Merle laughed all the way up the stairs.

Next thing Rick knows he's got Daryl underneath him and they're sprawled out on the couch. Things are a little blurry and little sloppy but Rick didn't want it to stop. Daryl is groaning from below him, moaning obscenely and wriggling around in a way that made him literally have to hold himself back. Daryl reached up and unbuttoned Rick's shirt, hands roaming his bare skin and touching just so, causing a delightful shiver to attack his body. Rick was hard, needy and almost desperate but when he tried to pull Daryl's shirt off the other man pulled back so fast Rick didn't even have time to blink. Daryl was panting and leaning on his elbows, biting his lip as he looked away.

"What's wrong? Did I do something?" Rick searched Daryl's face.

"You didn' do nothing." When Daryl didn't look back Rick leaned in for a kiss, the urgency of the moment gone.

"Are you sure?" Rick saw Daryl pulling at his shirt.

"Yeah, nothin' is wrong. Just don't want to take this too fast."

"Why don't we just go to sleep? I don't have Carl tomorrow."

Rick fell asleep that night spooned behind Daryl's warm body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not edited. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own. All rights go to Robert Kirkman, Frank Darabont, and all others involved. Obviously I'm NOT involved.
> 
> A/N: Holy crap! Over 3,800 words. I think that's the longest chapter I've ever written for any of my TWD stories. Yup, Merle is a good guy in this one. And don't worry, the Dixon brother's background will be a part of this story. I hope you enjoyed! I'd love for you to review, suggestions and helpful comments always welcome.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much for reviewing. Here's chapter four. Hope you enjoy. Sorry for the long wait…my writer’s block has been terrible recently. You have no idea how much it means to me to get reviews and know that you’re still reading!

When Rick woke up the next morning he was instantly confused; the bed he was on was both too large and too comfortable to be his own. A delicious breeze was ghosting over his skin, the type of breeze you just can’t get in the city, and he smiled contently while he burrowed deeper into his pillow. Rick vaguely recognized the way his head pounded ever so slightly but with Daryl’s scent surrounding him the pain faded to the background, a distant echo of the handover he would inevitably have to face. With a jolt Rick realized Daryl was no longer in the bed with him, the other man’s warmth long gone and his absence was missed. Bracing himself Rick opened his eyes wincing against the harsh sunlight flooding through the window. He sat up with a hand on his aching temple, hangover slamming into him with a rush of vertigo as he took in his surroundings.

Like the rest of the Dixon house Daryl’s room was simple and uncluttered, most likely used only for sleeping purposes. There was a plain brown dresser in one corner and a closet on the opposite wall, stark-white walls void of any decorations or personal touches and surprisingly (or really, unsurprisingly) no television in sight. A small lamp sat on the nightstand to Rick’s right, on what he assumed was Daryl’s side of the bed, and to his left was an identical table. Rick smiled when he saw the glass of water and aspirin tablets placed thoughtfully there and gladly took them, more than ready to be rid of his migraine. When Rick stood he had to steady himself against the wall, limbs suddenly feeling more like jelly than skin and bone and muscle, momentarily seeing double-it had been way too long since he had last been drunk. As soon as Rick stepped out into the hallway he could smell the telltale scent of bacon cooking and he realized the gnawing in his stomach was hunger. Rick tiptoed down the hall and towards the stairs, hardwood cool on his bare feet and he was tempted to turn around to put his socks back on.

“C’mon brother!” Rick heard Merle exclaim as he descended the stairs. “You two looked pretty chummy last night.”

“Nothin’ happened, Merle.”

“Still can’t believe my baby brother is fuckin’ some cop.” Mere was laughing joyously.

“Will ya keep it down?” Daryl hissed. As Rick walked closer to the kitchen he could hear that Merle was still chuckling.

“Well hello, sleeping beauty!” Merle cried when Rick walked into the kitchen.

“Morning.” Rick grumbled rubbing his eyes tiredly the same way Carl did every morning. He raised an eyebrow at Merle’s beer. “Drinking already?” 

“Beer’s good for ya, Officer.” The elder Dixon raised his beer in a toast. “Puts hair on yer chest.” 

Rick threw his head back with a loud laugh.

“I don’t need help with that.” Rick patted his chest. 

Daryl was leaning against the counter watching with him a soft expression on his face and without thinking Rick walked to stand in front of him. They stared at each other for a mere second before Rick placed a hand on Daryl’s hip and leaned in for a gentle kiss, mouths barely touching but the interaction was electric nonetheless. Merle catcalled and Rick smiled against Daryl’s lips, happier in that moment than he had been in all his moments with Lori. 

“Mornin’.” Daryl was smiling brightly when Rick pulled away. “Breakfast?” 

“What are we having?” Rick looked at the stove before glancing back at Merle who was smiling like the Cheshire cat. 

“Eggs, bacon, country gravy and biscuits.” Daryl opened the oven to check on said biscuits. “If that’s alright with you?”

“That sounds amazing, I’m starving.” Rick’s stomach growled. “Can I do anything to help?” 

“Nah, I’ve got it, you can go sit down.” He jerked his head in the direction of the dining table where Rick took a seat across from Merle. 

Rick watched fondly as Daryl moved about the kitchen, the scene before him causing a strange but not unwelcome stirring in his gut. This thing between him and Daryl was so new that he couldn’t be certain of anything except the fact that he was happier than he had been in a long time. Since he and Lori had separated everything was bland, beige and boring just like his apartment, and he was being thrust into this exciting, new life that felt like it was moving too quickly and yet too slowly all at the same time. In reality he had no idea what he was doing, had never looked at a man the way he was looking at Daryl right that second, and he certainly never thought he’d feel so alive again. Daryl was a breath of fresh air, crisp and clean and better than Rick could have ever imagined.   
A large hand patting him on the back broke Rick out of his thoughts, startled to the point of jumping in his seat. Merle was smiling knowingly, looking at Daryl and then back at Rick before finishing his beer. When he stood Rick saw that the other man was wearing nothing but a worn pair of checkered boxers and a pair of black dress sock that reached mid-calf. Rick felt his eyebrows rise in shock and had to stifle a laugh, covering his mouth with his first. Daryl must have seen Rick’s expression because suddenly he was laughing, doubling over to place his hands on his knees. Merle looked down at his state of undress and just shrugged his shoulders, tossing his empty beer can in the trash.

“Not really used to Daryl having company.” Merle reclaimed his seat at the table. He lounged comfortably and confidently with his left arm splayed over the back of the chair, legs spread just slightly. Rick was about to say something when his cell phone rang, vibrating in his pocket.

“Rick Grimes,” He answered, in case it was the police station calling. Daryl and Merle both stopped what they were doing to listen in on the conversation. It was Shane. “Why are you calling me?” 

“Can’t I call my best friend?” Shane asked.

“You’re no longer my friend in case you’ve forgotten.” Rick sat a little straighter, now uncomfortable. 

“Don’t be like that.” Shane begged, pleaded. 

“I’m not being like anything. You slept with my wife, you’re living in my house and you see my son more than I do. I’m pretty sure I have every right to not want to speak to you.” Rick found himself growing angrier with every passing second. 

Shane signed on the other end. “I want to take Carl to the zoo. Lori said I had to ask you.”

“No.” Carl thought of Shane as a second father and Rick knew that not giving his consent was childish but he didn’t care. “You can’t take my son anywhere, do you hear me?” He stood, chair skidding back loudly in the quiet room.

“You’re being ridiculous.” Shane’s voice went up an octave. 

“Ridiculous?” Rick almost threw the phone. “I’m being ridiculous? That’s rich coming from you.”

“Lori has a job interview today and can’t watch Carl. She said you had plans so I offered to take him. Rick…” Rick could hear Shane sigh tiredly. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help. I’ll be over to get my son in an hour.” And with that Rick pressed the end button, momentarily missing house phones because he didn’t dare slam his cell down. The effect wasn’t quite the same. 

“Everything ok?” Daryl asked. He had a towel slung over his shoulder and a plate of food in his hand and Rick instantly felt guilty. 

“Fine. I need to go get Carl.” Rick ran a tired hand over his face. “I’m so sorry, I know you worked hard on the breakfast.” 

“I understand,” Daryl set the plate in front of Merle. “Call me later?” 

“Most definitely.” Rick pecked Daryl quickly on the lips, leaving the kitchen in search of his things. Once his socks, shoes and keys were found he popped his head back in to say goodbye to Merle. 

As soon as Rick was in his car he was wishing he was back in Daryl’s bed, warm and comfortable and feeling like there wasn’t a thing wrong in the universe. It was easy to pretend his life wasn’t a chaotic mess with Daryl around, the simple ease of the man enough to sooth his nerves. The farther away from Daryl he got the more the stress built in his chest, his loathing for Shane growing. Some hairband was playing on the radio but Rick barely noticed as he drove on autopilot, stopping at red lights and stop signs without thinking about it. Carl was probably going to be furious when Rick arrived to pick him up, was most likely ecstatic about going to the zoo, and for the second time that day he felt guilty. 

When he pulled into the driveway of his house-his old house, Rick reminded himself-Lori was already gone, her car nowhere to be found. Shane’s patrol car was parked in the open garage, clean and pristine as ever, and for a second Rick wanted to take the baseball bad he had hidden in the backseat and knock the taillights out. With a shake of his head he pushed the thought away, walking to the front door with nerve-shaken hands. It felt odd, Rick decided, having to ring the doorbell on a house you were still paying for. Shane took his time coming to the door, probably knew it was Rick and was doing it on purpose, but the second the door was open Rick shoved his way passed his old friend and into the hallway. 

“Carl!” Rick called out, storming into the living room. He had no idea why but he was sweating and he really wanted to turn around and break Shane’s big nose. Perhaps it would look better when he was through. 

“He’s in his room.” Shane was wiping his hands on a dish towel. When Rick went to go up the stairs Shane stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “You can’t just come storming in here like you own the place.”

“I do own the place!” Rick snarled, yanking away from Shane’s grasp. “You’d be wise to remember that.”

“Is that a threat?” Shane’s muscles bulged in a way that was supposed to be threatening. It only pissed Rick off more.

“Take it however you like.” Rick too the steps three at a time, swiftly going to Carl’s room and without knocking entered. Carl was lying face-down on his bed, arms and legs splayed. Rick knew this was a temper tantrum.

“Hey bud,” Rick picked up Carl’s book bag. “You ready to go?”

“Why can’t I go to the zoo with Shane?” Carl whined, not lifting his head.

“Because,” Rick said with a long sigh. 

“Because why?” Carl sat up, his hair in his eyes. It was time for a haircut. 

“Carl, we’ve talked about this.” Rick sat next to his son.

“I know, I know ‘it’s complicated’. I get it dad, but when is going to stop being complicated?” Rick’s heart hurt at the sad look on Carl’s face. 

“I don’t know.” Rick put his arm around Carl’s shoulder and drew him in close. “I’m sorry things have been so hard lately and I know you don’t understand everything that’s going on but we’re all trying to make this work.”

“I’m not a kid, dad.” Carl leaned into Rick. “Shane and mom are together…” He looked away. “Like how you and mom used to be.”

“I-” But Rick didn’t know what to say. Carl looked so lost sitting there, head bowed down and just the slightest hint of tears in his eyes. He should have known better than to underestimate Carl; his son was smart and observant, and didn’t deserve to be treated like a child. 

“It’s ok.” Carl hugged him, comforting Rick when Rick should be comforting him. “You’ve been so sad and I don’t know how to help you.”

“Carl, you need to listen to me, ok?” Rick turned so they were facing each other. Carl nodded. “Don’t worry about me, alright? Things have been hard, for all of us, but they’ll get better.” 

“You smiled the other day.” Carl was looking at him curiously. “A real smile, like you used to. At the dance when you were talking to Mr. Dixon, you looked happy.” 

And really, Rick should stop being so surprised by the things Carl said. 

“I was happy.” Rick ran a hand through his hair. 

“Do you like him?” Carl asked, wringing his hands in his lap. 

“I do.” 

“Like…” Carl trailed off looking uncertain.

“Like what?” Rick urged, trying to look reassuring.

“Like how you used to like mom?” 

“Carl, you need to realize that things are-” 

“Complicated?” Carl snapped, interrupting him. “Stop talking to me like I’m stupid dad, because I’m not.” 

“I don’t think you’re stupid, this is just all so strange and I don’t know how to explain to you what’s happening. I don’t know what’s going on.”

Carl was silent for so long Rick was worried the conversation was over.

“I think you should be happy.” Carl said matter-of-factly. Rick chuckled.

“I think I should be happy, too.”

“So you like Mr. Dixon, right?” Carl pushed.

“Yes,” Rick said hesitantly, not sure how honest he should really be. Everything was already so screwed up, he felt like he shouldn’t put anything else on Carl. 

“And you’re happy again?” Carl looked eager. 

“…Yes.” Rick’s eyes narrowed wondering where Carl was going with this. 

“Then I approve.” Carl said with a huge, toothy smile.

Rick couldn’t help the boisterous laugh that escaped. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Carl and Rick were bored. 

They sat on Rick’s beige couch with their shoe-clad feel kicked up on the coffee table, the TV on some cheesy action movie with a lot of explosions and pretty women. The day had been lazy and they did nothing of too much excitement save for the game of cards they played; Carl won but only because he had cheated. 

“Want to order some food before I bring you back to your mom’s?” Rick asked, nudging Carl’s leg with his foot.

“Yeah! Let’s get pizza, maybe Glenn will come back.” Carl sat up quickly, bouncing in his seat. 

Rick stood and went to the kitchen to order their food, the woman on the phone exceptionally polite and giggly. He ordered their pizza and drinks, told them his address and paid by card, having to repeat the number twice for the girl to get it right. Carl was flicking through the channels and stopped on the news, watching intently. After a second he yelped loudly, waving Rick over excitedly. Rick thanked the woman and hung up, running over to sit next to Carl, curious what had riled him up so much. The news report said there was excessive flooding at Carl’s school and there would be no classes tomorrow so students and faculty could remain home. Carl whooped loudly, cheering happily. Rick’s first thought was to call Daryl.

“No school!” Carl was beaming. 

“I bet you’re excited, huh?” Rick ruffled Carl’s hair affectionately.

“Duh! I get to sleep in and do nothing!” 

When the doorbell rang Carl ran to the door so fast Rick hadn’t even pulled his wallet out of his pocket yet. Carl greeting Glenn loudly and enthusiastically, the Asian man playing along so kindly Rick wanted to hug him. 

“Hey Glenn, I like your hat!” Carl complimented, taking the pizza from him. He pointed to red cap on Glenn’s head.

“Thanks! I’ve had this thing for ages.” Glenn adjusted the hat so it sat lower on his head, making his face more visible. 

Carl and Glenn chatted away while Rick signed the credit card slip and put the food in the kitchen. When he returned to the door Carl was waving his hands animatedly, going on about a new zombie game he had played at a friend’s place, explaining in vivid detail how he beat a zombie to death with a baseball bat. Glenn seemed sincerely interesting and appeared to have played the game before because he told Carl how he had killed ten zombies with a shotgun, double barrel. Rick wanted to play the game now. He handed Carl is wallet and told him to tip Glenn whatever he wanted, silencing Glenn when he attempted to refuse. Carl pulled out a ten and looked at Rick who nodded his approvable. Again Glenn tried to say no, to push the money back in Carl’s hand saying it was too much.

“Just take it,” Rick said, smiling. Glenn nodded.

“There’s dessert in the bag, by the way,” Glenn pointed inside the apartment. Carl cheered. “I promised I’d bring you some next time.”

“What do you say, Carl?” Rick placed a hand on top of Carl’s head, the action had become habit.

“Thank you, Glenn.” Carl then raced back into the apartment.

“Have a good night,” Rick said before closing the door. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

It was ten at night and Rick was alone, fingering his cell phone trying to decide what he should say when he called Daryl. Despite his confidence that morning he was feeling awkward again, unsure of himself or his actions. He didn’t know what to call Daryl, unsure what to expect from another man in a romantic way. Was dating the same? Rick stared at the ceiling, contemplating just going to bed and leaving the stress until the morning. But the phone vibrated in his hand and Rick was extremely pleased to see Daryl’s name pop up on the screen.

“Hey,” Rick greeted softly. “I was just about to call you.” 

“What are you doing?” Daryl asked. There was loud music in the background and Rick could barely hear him over the sound of other voices. 

“Just dropped Carl off with Lori. Where are you?” 

“‘M at a bar with a friend of mine.” 

Rick tried to ignore the jealousy he felt. 

“You should come out,” Daryl yelled over the noise. “I miss you.” 

“Are you drunk?” Rick asked but laughed; Daryl’s deep, rough and slightly slurred voice was terribly cute and incredibly sexy all at the same time. 

“A little. But it’s true, I miss you and I want you to come out.” Daryl was whispering to someone, the sound muffled and he was probably holding his hand over the mouthpiece. 

“Where are you?” 

Daryl told him the bar and the address but Rick knew exactly where it was, already out the door when he hung up. The bar was only a seven minute drive from his apartment and Rick was wondering how Daryl was planning on getting all the way home while he was intoxicated. The bar was small and dimly lit, a dive that most people avoided even though the atmosphere was laid back and simple, the service friendly and the beer selection interesting. Rick walked in and found Daryl instantly in the crowd. The teacher was in the same sleeveless shirt he had been wearing that morning, unbuttoned more than Rick had ever seen. His jeans were dirty and Rick wondered how many times Daryl had warn them previously without washing them. Even from the entrance Rick could see the dirt caked under the other man’s fingernails, hand gripping a bottle of Budwiser. There were four empty shot glasses on the table. Across the booth from him sat-Glenn?

“Hey babe,” Rick said easily, the endearment slipping through his teeth before he had a chance to stop it. He was so used to calling his dates by pet names. He stilled, nervous but was greeted with a smile and a hand on his wrist pulled him to sit next to Daryl.

“Dude, no way!” Glenn cried, mouth falling open. 

“You two know each other?” Daryl asked, pointing between them. 

“I deliver pizzas to him and his son,” Glenn said, laughing. He signaled for the bartender. “I was actually over there tonight. I had no idea this was the hot cop you were talking about!” 

“Small world,” Rick said, looking up when three full shots of whisky were set on the table followed by the almost full bottle.

Rick was glad he didn’t have to work the next day.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Dude no way,” Glenn slammed his hand on the table, all of them a little passed tipsy.

“A crossbow?” Rick asked skeptically, finishing another beer. He had lost count four beers ago. 

“Damn right, a crossbow.” Daryl nodded his head assuredly. “Trus’ me, best weapon in the zombie apocalypse.” 

“I’d have a bat, for sure.” Glenn downed another shot. His face was beet red. 

“Come on, hoss,” Daryl snorted, his accent heavier and thicker than ever. Rick couldn’t help but find it unnaturally attractive. “Think you’d survive long enough to even find a bat?” 

“I’d survive! Dude I would totally live.” Glenn looked like he was trying to convince himself.

“Keep telling yerself that.” Daryl poured himself another shot. He had drunk the most out of the three of them yet he appeared to be the least drunk.

“First I’d hit up the police station.” Glenn said then realization dawned on him. “That’s where you come in!” He pointed at Rick. “You get us in there, we steal all the guns and ammo and we’d totally be set.”

“Bullets run out,” Daryl pointed out. His shot glass was again empty. “I’m tellin’ you, I’d have my crossbow and y’all would be hidin’ ‘hind me scared shitless.”

Rick just stared at Daryl, in awe of how fast he was falling for the amazing man. Even covered in sweat and dirty from a hard day’s work Daryl was still ungodly attractive, his disheveled hair framing his face in a more-than-perfect way. Even when he and Lori had first gotten married he couldn’t remember ever feeling quite like he did right now, couldn’t imagine Daryl not being in his life. And even though it was foolish he wondered if they would have met in another universe, in a world overrun by zombies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review and let me know what you think! I hope you all enjoyed, I always have such a blast writing this. I Want to throw a shout out to DropkickingBulletShells (over on ff.net). She’s kind of amazing and super helpful and I’m incredibly envious of her writing. She just started a new story called “Ghost Town” and it’s incredible. 
> 
> Not ran past my BETA, so all mistakes are my own. Feel free to point them out.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own. All rights go to Robert Kirkman, Frank Darabont, and all others involved. Obviously I'm NOT involved.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: HOLY CRAP. I am so, so, so, so sorry for the long wait. Wow. I can’t believe how long it’s been since I’ve updated. I just…lost inspiration. I didn’t have a thought out plot for the story so it just kind of faded to the back of my mind but I’m BACK! With a million and one ideas. Thank you so much to those of you who have continued to follow this story and me and don’t worry, more updates are to come.
> 
> Not run past my BETA. All mistakes are my own. Feel free to point them out.

Chapter Five

“Can Mr. Dixon come over for dinner?” Carl asked abruptly one Friday afternoon after school. The sun was just starting to set.

            They were lounging comfortably on the couch, a bottle of root beer in Carl’s hand and a bottle of Fat Tire in Rick’s, both absently watching ESPN. It had been two weeks since the night at the bar and both Rick and Daryl had been too busy to see much of each other. Rick finished his beer and stared at his son for a moment before nodding.

            “Are you sure?” Rick asked, slinging an arm across Carl’s shoulders, pulling him close.

            “Duh, dad,” Carl giggled but made no attempt to escape the embrace.

            “It won’t be weird for you, to see Mr. Dixon outside of school?”

            “Mr. Dixon is _so_ cool! And you haven’t seen him in forever, have you?”

            “I-no,” Rick chuckled, “you’re much too observant for your age, kiddo.”

            “I’m not a kid!” Carl insisted shrugging out from under Rick’s arm as if to prove a point.

            Rick held up his hands, a huge grin on his face. “Okay, you’re not a kid.”

            Carl nodded smugly.

            “I’ll call and see what he’s doing alright? But I don’t want you to be disappointed if he’s busy.”

            Rick dialed the number from memory and only had to wait three rings before an out of breath Daryl answered.

            “Hey baby,” Daryl greeted warmly.

            “Hey yourself.” Rick melted just hearing Daryl’s voice. “Everything ok?”

            “What? Oh yeah, I was outside workin’ on the bike. What’s up?”

            “Well Carl wanted me to invite the wonderful Mr. Dixon over for dinner.”

            Dark barked an amused laugh, “Tonight?”

            “If you’re free,” Rick rushed to explain, not wanting to seem like he was pressuring, “I told Carl you might be busy.”

            “‘M free tonight. When should I come?”

            “Just head over whenever you’re done. I’ll cook.”

            “Should I be worried?” Daryl teased.

            “No,” Rick blushed, grateful Daryl couldn’t see him, “I know how to cook.”

            “Yeah, right!” Carl yelled, moving in closer so he could put his mouth near the phone.

            “Oh you be quiet.” Rick shoved Carl playfully, delighted by his son’s squeal of laughter.

            “I’m just gonna finish up the bike an’ shower then I’ll be over.”

            “Alright, we’ll see you in a bit.”

            Daryl hung up without another word and Rick just stared at Carl, suddenly anxious about dinner because Carl was right, he _couldn’t_ cook. Scrambling to his feet Rick started looking through his cupboards. There was an old (but thankfully not expired) box of shake ‘n bake, fresh chicken in the fridge, instant mashed potatoes and green beans in a can. Not exactly a five-star meal but Rick figured it would make do in a pinch. Besides, Daryl didn’t seem like the picky type.

            “I’m going to take a shower so I want to make sure your things are picked up,” Rick called as he walked down the hallway, “that includes your room, little man!”

            “Aw but _dad_!” Carl whined but Rick could hear him already moving about, organizing his things.

            Rick’s shower was short and scaling hot, the bathroom filling with steam in less than five minutes. He wasn’t really dirty but smelled vaguely of the bitter coffee all the officers drank in-between calls. Standing in front of the fogged mirror Rick ran a hand over the three-day-old stubble on his chin debating whether or not to shave and of course he was long overdue for a trim. His hair was longer than normal, curling around his ears and going every which way unless slicked back. Attempting to not focus so much on his appearance Rick ventured into his bedroom, choosing the first button down he saw in his closet and a pair of dark wash jeans, both of which fit snugly without being plastered to his skin. Finishing with a pair of boots he didn’t even glance at himself in the mirror despite the overwhelming urge to pick apart his appearance.

 

* * *

 

            Rick heard Daryl’s bike before he was even in the apartment complex. The rumble was loud and smooth, a delicious purr of pure power. Carl raced to the window and looked out, pointing down, giddy with excitement. His face was aglow grinning from ear to ear and he looked back at Rick silently asking for permission. Rick followed his son outside, scolding Carl when he ran too quickly down the stairs, and his jaw almost dropped when he saw Daryl sitting on the old Triumph. The bike was a little too large for Daryl’s frame, obviously made for someone with slightly more bulk, but he looked right perched on the small seat. Daryl wore a leather vest atop a sleeveless shirt, his skin glistening in the dimming sunlight and despite the fact that he had recently showered there was already a smudge of grease on his cheek.  

            “Mr. Dixon!” Carl called, running up to Daryl quickly. “Cool bike.”

            “Thanks Carl, it’s my brothers,” Daryl responded, running a hand through his hair. There was a layer of facial hair on his chin, light and scruffy looking and Rick suddenly wanted to rub his cheek against it.

            “Can I go for a ride?” Carl asked excitedly, rocking on his heels.

            “Only if yer dad says it’s ok, and when I have a helmet for you.”

            “But you’re not wearing a helmet.”

            Daryl had the decency to look ashamed. “Which is stupid, kid, don’t _ever_ ride on a motorcycle without a helmet, ok?”

            “Alright, Mr. Dixon.” Carl was nodding in understanding, still looking at Daryl in awe.

            Rick walked up to the bike, standing next to Daryl who was still straddling the seat. Daryl beamed up at him and before either of them could consider the inappropriateness of the action had an arm wrapped around Rick’s waist, drawing him in for a light kiss.

            “Hey,” Rick said softly, brushing his fingers through the short hairs at the nape of Daryl’s neck.

            “Ew!” Carl yelled but when Rick looked over his son was smiling. “You guys are gross. Don’t you know kissing spreads cooties?”

            “Cookies?” Daryl asked, popping the kickstand down and slid off the bike.

            “Yeah, cooties,” Carl said and shrugged as if it were nothing. He grabbed Daryl’s hand and began pulling him toward the apartment. “Come on, Mr. Dixon, I’ll show you around.”

            “If we’re not in school you can call me Daryl, ok?” Daryl looked back at Rick, eyes crinkling as he squinted against the last rays of sunlight.

            Rick watched the two walk together and couldn’t place the tightness in his chest; it was a bad feeling, he didn’t feel panicked or worried but it was an unfamiliar feeling.

            “Come on dad!” Carl yelled from the top of the stairs, waving him to follow. Rick waved and jogged to catch up.

 

           

* * *

Rick and Daryl stood in the kitchen while dinner was finished, both sipping on beer and watching Carl as he did his homework. Daryl had offered to help but Rick declined, stating that Carl needed to try to figure it out on his own first. Everything felt so natural, smooth and organic and Rick imagined his life like this; truly happy and content for the first time ever. He and Daryl moved around each other seamlessly like they cooked together all the time, never knocking elbows and crossing paths. Every once in a while Carl would look over at them and his mouth would turn up in the slightest of smiles before going back to his paper.

            “So Merle and I are throwing a party next Saturday,” Daryl said as he stirred the instant potatoes, not meeting Rick’s eye, “Was wondering if you’d wanna come?”

            “Of course. It’s Lori’s weekend with Carl so I’ll be free after work. What’s the occasion?”

            “Jus’ a barbeque. He doesn’t get out much so once in a while we have our old friends over, catch up. You know.”

            “Sounds great.” Rick leaned over and brushed a kiss to the underside of Daryl’s jaw, nuzzling his nose at the juncture. “Should I bring anything?”

            “Beer if you want something specific but other than that we’ve got it covered.”

            “How’s the chicken?” Rick asked, washing his hands.

            “Looks ‘bout done,” Daryl said as he bent over to peer into the oven. Rick could feel the heat wafting out. “Smells pretty good too.”

            “What can I say,” Rick help up his hands, “I’ve got magic fingers.”

            Daryl raised an eyebrow and smirked devilishly, canting his hip to lean against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “Is that so?”

            “Sure is.” Rick looked Daryl up and down. “By the way, I _really_ like the vest.”

            “I’ve had this thing since I was in my twenties. I swear it’s my good luck charm,” Daryl ran his fingers along the leather lovingly, “Merle put the wings on it, you know.”

            “He did? They look great did he do it before or after he lost his hand?” Rick had learned not to shy around the subject but never asked outright what happened.

            “After. He needed to pick up hobbies to keep him occupied. That man can do things with one hand most can’t do with both.”

            Rick’s features softened. “He seems like a great brother.”

            “He is,” Daryl nodded, glancing down at his boots, “He’s done a lot more. Sacrificed more than he shoulda.”

            Rick was about to reach out when Carl was suddenly there holding up his finished homework looking extremely proud. “I’m finished. Can I show Daryl around?”

            “Of course you can,” Rick said, glancing one more time at Daryl’s troubled face.

            As soon as Carl was looking at Daryl the man cheered right up, eyes lit up with amusement. He winked at Rick as Carl dragged him off to show him the entire apartment. Rick watched them go fondly.

            He could get used to this.

 

TBC…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine obviously. TWD would be entirely different if I owned it.
> 
> A/N: Please let me know what you think. And I’ve already got a light draft of the next chapter so hopefully it won’t be too long before it’s up.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written an AU before. I have to say I'm having a blast with this one!


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